


Through the Spectrum

by IndilwenofMirkwood



Series: In Color [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Grief, Language of Flowers, Ratings will vary by chapter, Romance, Sexual Content, tags will be added as story progresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-03-31 06:58:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3968734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndilwenofMirkwood/pseuds/IndilwenofMirkwood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Continuation of "In Color". A series of one-shots set throughout the lives of Melinda May and Phil Coulson as they discover what it means to see color. Soulmate AU. All Philinda. Rating will vary by chapter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Through Rose-Colored Glasses

**Author's Note:**

> I suppose I should start by saying that this particular work is set after my other story, In Color and it's set in the same AU. This one here, is a collection of one-shots based around specific colors and what emotions they might evoke. If you haven't read In Color, it's probably best that you do so, as this AU probably doesn't make much sense without it. Also, the rating will vary by chapter and each chapter will have a different color that will act as its theme.
> 
> This chapter, Through Rose-Colored Glasses is what I'm going to refer to as the Pink chapter. Pink, being a tint of red, is passionate, yet more tender and innocent, often considered the sweeter side to it's brighter base color-in that it's said to soothe frustration.
> 
> And Sym, thank you for putting up with my insanely terrible, late night notes on this one!
> 
> THIS CHAPTER IS RATED M.

To say that the past eight weeks had been anything less than blissfully chaotic would have been a severe distortion of the truth. Gone were the dull shades of pewter and heather gray, their places filled with vivid hues that even his dreams had failed to realize.

Melinda May had turned his world upside down, had soaked it in color and he doubted that he'd ever be able to articulate just what that meant to him, though he had a feeling she knew already. He'd begun to drown in that same sea of hopelessness and fear that she'd been living in for years, though she'd had much greater a reason, he'd come to learn, her father's abandonment having left her feeling unworthy and unwanted, which he was all too determined to change.

For she was, most certainly, _wanted_.

Perhaps it was his somewhat abashed excitement coupled with her more reserved, but no less sincere affection that had paved the way for the thick tension that had so innocently settled between them, this sort of slow burn eating away at him day by day as their kisses grew more desperate, his hands itching to trace the contours of her bare hips, fingers ghosting up and across the flat plain of her stomach...

_'Fuck.'_

Phil shook his head vigorously, his mind clearing before his eyes refocused on the paper in his hands, the black printed words far less interesting than the woman currently sitting on his sofa. They'd developed a routine of sorts, both of them returning to his home at the end of the day to unwind, allowing their troubles to fall off their shoulders at the sight of his door. Currently, Melinda was sitting cross-legged on his couch while he sat in the lone armchair, her gaze focused on the essay in her hand as she nibbled on the end of a red ball-point absentmindedly and if the image of her toying with it hadn't been enough to torture him, than the fire was definitely the kicker.

It had been unseasonably cold for late April, even for Boston, and upon finding his apartment a bit chilly over the last few days, they'd decided that a fire was an excellent idea, but never before had he regretted something so terribly. The fire-light was flickering off of her skin beautifully and bathing her in an amber glow, the flame dancing in her eyes as if she was burning from within; as if her desire was as red-hot and blazing as his own suddenly was.

He sighed unconsciously as he watched her, her hands moving fluidly over paper and he was assaulted by the image of her hands trailing over his spine, her fingernails digging into...

 _'Damnit,'_ he thought somewhat annoyed at his inability to focus on anything other than her and on the way her hands would feel on his body.

He growled, frustrated for more reasons than one as he forced himself to read his student's writing.

_'...discovery requires experimentation.'_

Phil's eyes widened at the words on the page, his subconscious mind jumping to all manner of experiments he'd like to perform. Standing up with a poorly-concealed huff, he discarded the essay and, running his hands through his hair, he stepped into the kitchen with the hope that starting dinner might distract him for awhile.

He fell into an easy rhythm, pulling out ingredients for a recipe he knew by heart, the minutes ticking by slowly as he struggled to focus.

"Phil, are you alright?"

He hadn't heard her come in and he jumped at the sound of her voice, his head snapping in her direction as the saute pan he'd brought out clattered loudly onto the stove-top, the sounds of the colliding metal ringing jarringly through his ears.

"Huh?"

Melinda's brows were pinched in concern as she walked towards him slowly, her frown etched firmly upon her delicate features.

"I asked if you were alright," she repeated, her dark eyes watching as he poured a rich Merlot into the pan to reduce before turning on the heat.

"What makes you think I'm not?" he replied, perhaps a bit too defensively and he sighed again, cursing himself for being so wound up. Irritated at his behavior, he distracted himself by tossing two steaks into the sauce, busying himself with the task instead of dealing with the real matter at hand.

Melinda tilted her head to the side slightly, a flicker of amused confusion swirling in her brown eyes. "Well for starters, you can't hold still, which, on a normal day, wouldn't have tipped me off, but coupled with the growling, it couldn't be ignored. And for some unknown reason, you've managed to reduce that essay into a crumpled mess and that's not even factoring in how long you were reading that same page or how long you were staring at it," she pointed out, her hands opening to reveal the unfortunate victim of his pent up desires, the wrinkled pages distorted and bent as she laid the item on the counter next to him. "And, Phil, if you sigh one more time, I might just have to murder you."

He choked on the laugh that had bubbled up his throat, though his sheepish expression failed to cover his frustration.

"I'm sorry, Mel," he offered quietly.

"You wouldn't do this if something wasn't bothering you, so while your apology is noted, it isn't really necessary," she relayed, her eyes softening as she reached up to straighten his hair from where he'd mussed it earlier in his agitation. "You've been tense for days, now please, what is it?"

Phil bit his lip, but said nothing as she leaned against the counter-top, her hands settling on his chest.

"Is it me?" she asked tentatively, "Do you want me to go?"

Immediately, his head began shaking, " _No!_ No, I don't want you to go," he answered fervently as he pulled her closer, his arms slipping around her waist to hold her against him as he let his head fall to rest on her shoulder.

"Then tell me what you want," she murmured softly in his ear, with just a hint of something he couldn't quite deciphercoating her words, her tone brooking no argument as she settled comfortably in his arms.

"I want you to stay," he admitted, the half-truth slipping out easily enough as he kissed her sweetly. "I want-"

And the words were there on the tip of is tongue, but he trailed off uncertainly, his anxiety at pushing her too far, too fast, floating to the surface, but it was more than that, truly. His experience with love, with _intimacy_ , was limited, though certainly not nonexistent. He could recognize both easily in the feel of her hands as she stroked his jaw and in the way her eyes softened as she looked at him now, and though he couldn't call himself an expert in the area, he was more than willing, eager even, to discover every mystery of her, to chase away her uncertainty, and to _love_ her if she'd allow him to.

Words were failing him, his ability to articulate what he wanted leaving him all together as he stared at her, and so he leaned forward slowly, his lips connecting with hers softly; he kissed her until her hands were gripping his shirt, until a sigh broke free as she hummed against him, trying desperately to convey just how much he wanted her, in every sense of the word, through the force of his lips alone.

He switched course as he muddled through his mind for the right way to explain, his lips trailing down the expanse of her neck lightly, just enough to raise goosebumps on her flesh, but he stopped, his mouth hovering just above her clavicle as he finally found the words.

"I want _you_ , Melinda," he exhaled shakily as he brought his hands to rest on the curve of her hips. " _All_ of you."

She sighed, eye slipping closed as he sucked a path from her shoulder up to her ear, her head dipping back unconsciously to allow him greater access. He returned to her mouth, his lips hesitant, but so eager and he wanted to weep in elation when she stepped forward, silently forcing him backwards just to pin _him_ against the counter

He held Melinda close and then closer still when she ran her hands up his chest before she stood on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers running through his hair, scratching his scalp lightly and he groaned at the sensation.

She broke away just enough to say his name and he sighed at the sound of it on her lips.

" _Phil?_ " Melinda said again, her voice sharper this time and as the tone of it registered, he broke away as if her skin suddenly burned.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry, Mel," he began, his mind jumping to the worst conclusion in his nervousness. "We don't have to—we can stop, I'm sorry."

"What-?" Melinda asked, frowning at him as he rambled on incoherently. "No, Phil. The stove."

"The stove?" he repeated, confused as to why the appliance was suddenly so important, but then he slowly registered the thick smell of the wine—and smoke.

"Shit," he swore as the smoke alarm sounded overhead, the shrill noise making his nerves coil.

Quickly, he turned off the burner, moving the pan to the side to keep it from cooking any further, coughing through the cloud of gray as he grabbed the discarded and ruined essay off the island counter, fanning the blaring piece of plastic as Melinda opened a window. He sighed in relief as the sound stopped, but he practically deflated as he leaned over the counter, his shoulders slumped in defeat. The sound of bare feet padding towards him, however, sent him stiffening and, as her hand fell onto his arm, he closed his eyes, avoiding the look that he knew had to be on her face.

"Hey, look at me," she whispered softly and, moments later, he felt her hand, warm between his shoulder blades in a tiny gesture of comfort.

He did so, reluctantly, turning so that he was facing her completely. "I'm sorry."

"Why do you keep saying that?"

"For rushing things. For going too far. For burning dinner. For being an irritated fool..." he ranted in exasperation, his eyes falling to the floor. "The last thing I want is to make you uncomfortable."

Melinda's eyes widened in surprise, her expression thoroughly confused in a way he didn't quite understand as she stared at him, before they softened in understanding as she smirked lightly. She trailed her hands up his arms and over his shoulders until she was cupping his jaw before she skipped right to the problem. "Do I look uncomfortable?"

His eyes took in her flushed skin, cheeks that same rose pink that he'd seen that first day, her hair mussed from where he'd run his hands through the dark brown strands repeatedly, her lips swollen from his attentions, and slowly, he shook his head no. No, Melinda looked... _aroused_.

"Then, please," she whispered as she took a step towards him, pulling his arms up until his hands found purchase on her hips. "Don't stop."

His heart was pounding in his chest as she leaned in to kiss him, his desire clawing its way back to the surface as her want manifested itself in the form of her tongue slipping against his lips to seek entry. They kissed until they were breathless, the lack of air forcing them apart only long enough to breathe before she pulled him to her again, hands tightening around his neck to keep him close.

"Relax," she breathed against his lips as she switched course to nip at his ear and he did his best to follow her instructions, to loosen up, but her kisses and her closeness were making his mind spin wonderfully and he only _stiffened_ further.

Blindly, Phil raised his hands until they were even with the topmost button of her blouse and shakily he began pulling at them, waiting for signs that she didn't want this, but with each consecutive button without a word of protest, he grew bolder, more confident and soon, he was tugging the fabric from her skirt and slipping it off of her shoulders.

Phil was immediately captivated by the sight of the black lace adorning her smooth, unblemished skin and he couldn't help but place an affectionate kiss to her bare shoulder as she pulled on his shirt, freeing the material from his slacks, her fingers moving to undo the buttons as he kissed and sucked at the curve of her neck. He groaned low in his throat when her fingernails trailed up his chest, the pads tracing out some unknown path before she began backing up, her fingers tangled in his open shirt to pull him after her and he followed willingly— _eagerly_.

Somehow, for he wasn't quite sure, they made it down the hall and back into the living room unscathed, despite their feverish hands and their focus only on the other, their progress only halting when she stopped long enough to allow him to unzip her pencil skirt hurriedly, the fabric pooling around her feet and his shirt following seconds later before they were moving again, their pace quick and frantic. Melinda pushed him back until his knees collided with the chaise, causing him to fall into the plush seat, her legs impatiently pushing his knees apart so that she could stand between them.

His mind was hazy, completely incapable of doing anything other than breathe, and even that was growing difficult, as their tongues continued to battle out a war all their own. It was only when she took a step back that his eyes opened and he was mere milliseconds away from asking if there was something wrong, when her arms bent behind her to deftly remove her bra and he watched avidly as the fabric fell away to reveal her breasts.

"Phil."

He hadn't realized that he'd been frozen in place from the moment the lace had fallen to the floor, but he couldn't really find it in himself to care, because when his eyes moved up to her own, she was smiling smugly at him, a familiar fire glowing in her gaze as she returned to him, grasping his hands in her own and lifting them up across her toned abdomen until he was cupping her soft flesh in the palms of his hands, her fingers encouraging him to explore and his breath hitched at the realization of her intentions. Melinda was showing him what she wanted, her secrets on display while she taught him her desire, acknowledging his insecurities and his need with the vulnerability of her own as he continued to caress her and he sighed heavily, his nervousness fading completely as she tossed her head back in pleasure.

Their hurry had ebbed somewhat and, emboldened, he kneaded her skin between his fingers almost lazily, paying rapt attention to every breathy sigh that escaped her lips as she let her hands fall around his shoulders, patiently allowing him to map out every mark and every scar that littered her skin. He took his time learning, experimentally teasing out sounds he'd never heard from her as their arousal spiked higher with each pass of his rough hands against her skin.

Melinda cried out in surprise when his lips descended on the now taut peaks without warning, his teeth scraping against the tiny buds and warmth pooled low in his belly when she keened in pleasure. Phil worked his way up from her breasts, trailing kisses up the curve of her neck and over her jaw before he sealed their mouths together again in a sensuous kiss and as her hands sought out the belt securing his pants, he grunted against her lips, the sound rumbling through his body as she pulled at the fabric.

Phil blushed when his patriotic boxers came into view but she merely smiled down at him fondly, before easing the fabric off his hips. He hissed when the elastic band grazed across his swollen member, but kicked them away helpfully as a delicate, but strong hand planted itself on his chest, and as she pushed him back to rest against the pillows, he pulled her along, his arms wrapped tightly around her lower back, mouths fused together as she straddled him, her weight settling on his thighs.

Melinda sat up slowly, trailing her hands across his skin, fingernails scratching through the sparse hair covering his chest, the tips of her fingers mapping out the birthmark just under his navel and the tiny scar on his left hip he'd gotten sliding into third base during a little league tournament over two decades ago. She said nothing as she traced it lightly and he waited beneath her, allowing her the same opportunity to explore that she'd given him freely, but he shivered when he felt her hands gliding lower, ghosting across his abdomen before she trailed her index finger down the length of him, sending his hips bucking against her in surprise.

"Oh god, Melinda," he breathed in hushed approval as his eyes slipped closed.

She chuckled lowly, her hand keeping a steady rhythm until he was writhing beneath her, his cock weeping at her continued attention until he was forced to stop her, his own hands capturing her wrists to halt her movement.

"If you don't stop, Mel, this will be over far earlier than we both want it to be," he informed her quickly, sighing when her hands left his flesh to settle on his hips. He sat up then, his arms tightening around her as his lips sought hers.

"Condom?" he asked before they could lose themselves further, but she was already shaking her head.

"It's taken care of," she breathed into the kiss. "I don't need it if you don't."

"No," he whispered, the thought of absolutely no barriers between them leaving him breathless, "No, I don't."

"Good."

He grabbed her hips in support as she lifted herself off just enough so that she could grasp him again and, after positioning him at her entrance, she sank down slowly, inch by glorious inch until he could go no further, his member bottoming out within the luxurious warmth of her body.

Despite his eagerness to thrust, he stilled immediately as Melinda froze in place, her breath coming in harsh gasps as she stiffened against him.

"Mel?"

"I'm alright," she assured him quickly. "You're just...bigger than I expected."

Melinda chuckled lightly, kissing the self-satisfied grin off his face before easing back slowly in an experimental thrust that had his fingers digging into to the soft skin of her ass. They fell back onto the pillows together, lips still fused and fighting passionately, but as her nails brushed across his nipple accidentally, he bucked again, his hips hunching upwards— _hard_. She gasped against him, effectively breaking their kiss before the sound faded into a low moan of pleasure.

Using her hands on his chest as leverage, she began an agonizingly slow pace, one designed to torture in the best imaginable way, each roll of her hips making him pant beneath her. Melinda was so very warm around him, wet and slick and tight as he slipped in and out repeatedly, but it was the sight of her atop him, the bright fire-light framing her face beautifully, flickering off her skin and casting her body in soft shadows that truly captivated him. His fingers ached to trace every dip and every curve, to reveal every facet of her that his hands, and even his tongue could uncover, but his mind was gone, his body relying on instinct only and he could do nothing more than _feel_.

And he wanted more.

Dragging himself up and planting his feet firmly on the wooden floor, he thrust upwards viciously, if a little awkwardly from the unfamiliar position, and Melinda mewled in his arms, her rhythm faltering as he added to the tempo they'd built and she arched against him beautifully, her head thrown back in ecstasy at the sudden change in angle. He nipped at her chest before biting gently at the peak, soothing the taut skin with his tongue when she hissed. She yanked him back, her mouth slanting against his own frantically, her lips bruising as their hips met wildly in the deep-rooted, instinctual dance their bodies had fallen victim to.

Phil could feel the tension building between them, blazing like the fire crackling happily a few feet away. He could see its reflection clearly in her eyes, the brown of them swallowed whole by the black of her blown pupils and he wondered, briefly, if his own looked so wonderfully dangerous in the light of the flames as hers now appeared to be.

His lungs were on fire, his body coiling in anticipation as Melinda's pace wavered once more. He quickly fell in love with the way her lips parted in a silent gasp, at the almost painful way her nails dug into his skin like she was afraid he'd slip away, and of the way her eyes burned in pleasure, the heat within scorching a path up his spine.

"Phil?" she whispered, her voice saturated with carnal lust and nearly unrecognizable over the pounding in his ears. " _Please_."

Phil's hands eagerly moved to caress her inner thighs, his thumb seeking out her precious bundle of nerves and as he stroked the tiny button, each pass across it punctuated with a strong thrust of his straining member straight to her core, her body seized against him, his name slipping from her lips in a fractured whine as her face twisted in blissful agony.

He continued to thrust Melinda through her orgasm, each convulsion against him driving him mad as she fluttered around him wildly, her body pulsing around his straining cock.

He was determined to maximize whatever pleasure he'd given her, determined to hold out until he could give no more, but he was losing the battle with each contraction of her walls around him, his weakening control slipping as Melinda's hands came up to cup his face.

"Mel-"

Her forehead sank to rest on his own, her eyes open and bright as she stroked his cheeks. "Let go, Phil."

It was such an intimate gesture and, coupled with the feel and the scent of her around him, it was all too easy to succumb. Phil came with a broken gasp, his hands tightening on her hips as they rocked against one another. His head sank to her shoulder, nose buried in the curve of her neck as he panted and throbbed through his climax.

He came down from the euphoric high slowly and, vaguely, he became aware of her hands again, one stroking his back lightly and the other pushing his hair off his forehead as her thighs continued to quiver around him. He pulled back enough to kiss her sloppily and as he shifted against her, she gave a throaty moan that had a smile spreading across his face.

They stayed connected, trading lazy kisses to each piece of bare skin they could reach, only separating when their shaking had subsided and he'd gone completely soft, a tiny hiss leaving him as the cool air licked at him uncomfortably. They said nothing as he lifted her off, before leaning backwards, one arm reaching to pull her closer while the other pulled a blanket off the back of the chaise, draping it across the two of them haphazardly.

Melinda gave a tired, but thoroughly satisfied yawn as he placed a gentle kiss in her hair and he smiled softly when she only burrowed closer. He tightened his hold on her as she settled on his chest comfortably, head placed over his heart without a word, her eyes slipping closed as she drew uneven circles across his abdomen.

For awhile, they simply basked in the intimacy they'd created, their warmth and the fire's lulling them both into a complete state of relaxed contentment—that was broken only by the sound of his stomach growling as if he'd never eaten a day in his life. Two things happened simultaneously. One, his face turned beet red in an instant, and two, Melinda started giggling— _uncontrollably_ \--against him. It was a lovely, infectious sound that had him laughing along with her despite his embarrassment, but the sloppy kisses he received shortly after were enough to make him forget altogether.


	2. Black Roses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now feels like a good time to post what I consider the darker chapter of this fic as the Winter Finale of AoS is tonight. I was going to post the chapters in order, but I think I'll just post them in the order they come to me. 
> 
> This chapter is based off of the color Black which, for this particular instance, I'm using to represent grief, sadness, and death...
> 
> This chapter is Rated T.

It wasn't everyday that Melinda found herself perusing through hordes of hydrangeas and asphodel in every color under the sun. In fact, she could count the number of times she'd seen this many flowers in a single place on one hand and wouldn't need even half of her fingers.

She smiled ruefully as Pepper's low cursing came from somewhere to her left, the other woman's location hidden well behind a wall of bright petals as she tried to decide on which of the delicate blooms would adorn her front walk. She and Tony had just moved out of their penthouse apartment, after months of debating, and had recently purchased their first home, and in an effort to liven the place up, Pepper had requested Melinda's presence for the day—for home décor shopping. The nursery, which Melinda now found herself at, had been a last minute stop before lunch, but the visit was quickly working its way towards the two hour mark. She was quite certain that they'd passed thousands of flowers by now, all ranging in size and color, all with varying scents and seasons, and it was all too easy for Melinda to lose herself between the rows of Rhododendron.

 _'Not that I know what half of these flowers even are,'_ Melinda thought with an amused grin as she passed yet another plant she couldn't identify and, briefly, she questioned the other woman's intelligence for asking her to tag along.

Pepper had been a pleasant consequence of her relationship with Phil, the two of them having clicked almost instantly from the moment they'd been introduced, which she knew filled both Phil and Tony with a mixture of awe-filled amusement and a healthy dose of fear and Melinda grinned at the Peruvian lilies off to her right before continuing down the path.

It was overwhelming to say the least, at just how many hues and pigments could be trapped within one brightly lit white tent, the shades clashing beautifully in a sea of different palettes as she strolled the aisles within the nursery leisurely, ducking under the Amaranthus and Trumpet flowers dangling above her head as she went.

But it was the roses that truly captured her attention. Melinda would never call herself a flower lover, not in any strict sense of the word, but there was something utterly intriguing about the richly colored and fragile blooms, with their stems blanketed by a generous amount of impressive thorns in a sort of quiet, but beautiful threat as their sweet scent filled the air.

She could remember, some time ago, that a professor of hers had talked about the meanings of roses as if the plant itself was another language entirely. Pink for admiration, yellow for friendship, and red for passionate love and Melinda grinned as thoughts of Phil filled her mind. Carefully, she plucked a bud off the trellis, twirling the crimson rose between her fingers absentmindedly as she took note of the beautiful blue Anemone off to the side, the cornflower color matching the deeper flecks of blue in his eyes almost perfectly.

“What do you think of these?” Pepper asked as she approached, holding out a terracotta pot filled with an abundance of Morning Glory.

Dutifully, Melinda bent to examine the delicate buds, her fingers trailing out to touch the soft petals lightly. She squinted at its name-plate, the Latin words of _Convolvulus major_ far too long for such a simple, common grouping of flowers in her opinion.

“I was thinking white,” Pepper continued as she waited on Melinda to speak, “but the dark blue and violet are so much prettier.”

Melinda nodded in agreement, but suddenly, she winced, a menacing looking thorn having bit into the soft flesh of her index finger and unconsciously she stuck the wounded tip in her mouth, laving the cut with her tongue soothingly and, despite her earlier admiration, she glared at the offending plant. However, just as soon as the frown had sprung on her features, it faded into a look of confusion as the blood-red began to darken, it's bright petals falling victim to a thick, heavy stain of black like spilled ink across paper.

And she froze.

“Melinda? Are you alright?”

She ignored Pepper as her eyes glanced about, her pulse escalating as some unknown force began to leach the color from all around her.

“You're awfully pale. Do you want to sit down?”

She could feel Pepper's hand on her arm, urging her to sit, but Melinda was transfixed, watching silently as each individual bud turned either ebony or ash and every shade in between, more and more color disappearing with each passing second. A burning ache spread through her chest and despite the balmy June heat, she shivered.

“I-I need to go,” she whispered breathlessly as she began to back up, accidentally knocking the flowers from Pepper's grasp, but she paid no mind as the pot shattered at their feet, covering them both in a fine dusting of soil and fallen, blackened petals. “It's g-gone.”

Perhaps it was her inattention or maybe it had been her mounting fear that had given her away, for suddenly, Pepper was gripping her shoulders tightly, her eyes wide and frantic as she shook her friend in an effort for clarity. “Melinda, what's gone?”

At the sound of her name, Melinda's wide brown met the worried blue eyes of her friend, the color, that had been so similar to Phil's, now the gray she remembered from what felt like a lifetime ago.

“The color— _his_ color,” she clarified weakly, willing Pepper to understand what she couldn't bring herself to say. “I need to call Phil. Something—s-something is wrong.”

Melinda's tears came unbidden, sliding down her face as the now black rose slipped from her shaking, bloody fingertips.

Immediately, Pepper's countenance changed, hardening in a look that Melinda would have associated with a war veteran rather than the sophisticated Event Planner at her side, but in seconds, Pepper had pulled her away and back towards her car and less than a full minute later, they were pulling back onto the highway and headed for home.

Quickly, Melinda dialed the familiar number she knew by heart, praying that he'd answer, that her fears were for nothing, but with each consecutive ring, the ache in her chest intensified horribly.

And then, as if it had never disappeared at all, the color was back, flickering into her sight before brightening significantly. She gasped through her tears, straining her eyes against the sudden assault of color as she dialed again, but on the fifth try, the color dimmed once more and the phone slipped from her hands before falling to the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just gonna...walk away now. Review? =D

**Author's Note:**

> Loved it? Hated it? Leave a review!


End file.
